Perseverance
by Athena'sDragon
Summary: Captain Abitha Moore, a young woman in the Continental Navy, is perfectly content with her lot. Unfortunately for her, her life chooses that moment to turn itself upside down. Tossed between the Royal Navy and the British Aerial Corps, she must adapt to survive, making as many allies as possible and relying on her wit to survive.
1. Chapter 1

**Author's Note: **Here's my usual warning about how I'm terrible about updating. Bear with me, I never abandon a story and just leave it unfinished.

This is a story aimed to take advantage of the exciting time period in which it takes place. I apologize in advance for any discrepancies in canon, or for historical inaccuracies. Leave a comment with constructive criticism and I'll do my best to fix the issue. I also read all of the Temeraire books through _Victory of Eagles_, but that was a while ago. Forgive me as I refresh my memory!

Enjoy!

* * *

**Chapter I**

My day was going so well until I started getting shot at.

The fog which had shrouded my ship all morning was beginning to dissipate, so I had had my crew run up the French flag, just in case. We were skimming across the channel in the hopes of avoiding any battles on the way, but the risk ran high. The sun hadn't been visible for more than two minutes when the boom of cannon fire echoed across the water.

"Damn it Taylor, I thought you were on watch!"

"I am!" He yelled back. "It's the lobsterbacks."

I rolled my eyes. It was completely useless to try and explain to my crew that only the British marines wore red uniforms. "Williams, run up the Stars and Stripes! They think we're the Frogs. I thought I told you to change it when we were midway across!"

"Yes'm. We're not midway across yet, Sir."

My orders were carried out with practiced efficiency and the fire immediately ceased. It had been a long time since any of my crew had questioned my judgment, I thought as I tugged on my jacket with a smirk. I had no doubt of the reaction a female captain would get in the Royal Navy, but here, while I was on my own ship, I was in charge.

Of course, the _Antony_ wouldn't be my ship for much longer.

The thought flitted through my mind and I allowed it to pass right through. In my thirst to prove myself, taking on this assignment might be a short-term setback, but I would overcome it. I squinted up at the now-bright sun and the cheerfully whipping flag. I would be fine.

* * *

Captain Pellew stood on the deck of the _Indefatigable _and observed the American ship. He was both annoyed and puzzled; they had no reason to be anywhere near the Channel.

"The _Antony_, you say?" he asked Midshipman Hornblower, who was standing next to him with a spyglass to observe the other vessel.

"Yes Sir."

"Hmm." He watched for a few more seconds as the ship started to come about and approach them. "She looks familiar, but I don't know the name."

In the minutes that it took for the _Antony_ to tack over to the _Inde_, a small crowd of officers convened on deck and took turns with the spyglass. The crew was dressed in the blue and white of the American navy, and the sailors sported red vests under their jackets. A few of the_Inde_'s crew glanced down at their own more casual clothing. They eventually identified the Captain, a proud, slender figure who would occasionally race up the rigging or around the deck to interact with his crew.

"Ahoy!" yelled a waving American lieutenant as soon as the two ships were within shouting distance. Kennedy, a smiling midshipman, raised his arm in a responding wave before a glance from his superior officer caused him to clasp his hands behind his back. The captain of the other ship strode briskly over and addressed the lieutenant, as well. The words "Belay that, Martin," spoken in a high, clear voice, drifted across the water.

"Do you wish to come aboard?" Pellew called tersely to the Captain of the other ship.

"Yes Sir," the man responded. "Given your permission."

"Very well." Pellew turned to his crew. "Prepare for visitors to come aboard! I don't know what these damned Americans want, but let's see to it so we can send them off home." With that, the captain stormed off to his cabin to prepare, frustrated that his mission had been interrupted.

* * *

Horatio and Archie grinned at each other as they fell into line. Americans were few and far between in England, and they were curious to see what their visitors would be like. Besides, their lives had been dark enough recently, and any distraction was welcome.

"I hear they're all a bit wild," Archie speculated. His round face was full of excitement such as was rarely seen when Simpson was about, and Horatio smiled at him.

"I suppose we'll see." He noticed Archie's jaw go slack as he stared behind him, so he slowly spun around to see what was so surprising about the American crew.

The Captain was a woman. Horatio's jaw, too, fell as he observed her angular, determined face. Her hair, a curly auburn which seemed to shift in the light, was pulled back in an incongruously gentle ponytail so that strands fell loose around her face. She wore tight-fitting white stockings and breeches of the same color, a pristine white vest, and a navy blue coat with gold fittings. A fine long sword hung at her side and a stately black hat was clutched in her hand as she nimbly ascended onto the deck.

More surprising than her gender and male dress was her apparent youth. The woman couldn't have been much older than Horatio and Archie, but she surveyed her surroundings with the air of an experienced seaman. When her eyes fell on the amazed looks on the faces of the crew she raised an amused eyebrow and smirked. There was a popping sound as several mouths hurriedly closed.

Captain Pellew strode down from the upper deck with a bemused expression on his face. When he stood before the young captain, now winged by two male lieutenants, he introduced himself briskly. "Captain Sir Edward Pellew, officer of His Majesty's Navy aboard the HMS_Indefatigable_."

The woman inclined her head. "Captain Abitha Moore of the Continental Navy aboard the _Antony_. This is Lieutenant Williams," she nodded to the man with curly blond hair and a confident air, "and this is Lieutenant Taylor." The man with dark, greying hair nodded respectfully.

"What brings you to these waters, Captain?" Pellew inquired. Horatio admired him for carrying on a conversation with the woman without stopping to ask several key questions, though he suspected that it was only his annoyance which kept him from spluttering. "As you must know, we're in the middle of a war."

Captain Moore actually grinned at the older man. "That's why I'm here."

* * *

I tried not to feel intimidated by the huge sails, disciplined captain, and large crew of the _Indefatigable_. The officers were all assembled and staring at me with confusion. I noticed one midshipman with strawberry blond hair and a round face who was watching me with particular intensity, so I winked deliberately at him when I turned around to gesture at the _Antony_. The dark-haired boy next to him apparently stepped on his foot, because he jumped and cast his eyes downwards.

"My ship," I continued with a smile in my voice, "was formerly known to the Royal Navy as the HMS_ Serenity_."

Captain Pellew's eyes widened and I knew he recognized the name. "I'm afraid I don't understand. Surely you don't wish to return her?"

I turned to look at the ship again, this time with sadness in my eyes. My father had captured it in the Revolutionary War; it was the only successfully captured British ship, and a treasure of the Continental Navy.

"I don't wish to, believe me," I explained quietly. "I'm following my orders. She's my ship, but we wish to return her to you as a sign of good will. You need it more than we do at the moment. Besides, our Navy has a few good ships of its own now." A murmur ran through the crowd and I lifted my chin a little out of habit. "We were heading for Plymouth when you fired on us."

"I apologize, but you _were_ running the French flag," Captain Pellew argued. I shrugged.

"A safety precaution, nothing more. I suppose my plan to keep the _Antony _out of harm's way rather backfired."

For the first time, a ghost of a smile appeared on Captain Pellew's face. With the change I could suddenly see a kind man only made stern by command. I relaxed my stance minutely, feeling less threatened.

"Indeed it did. Well, I suppose the best we can do is escort you back to Plymouth and see what the Admiralty says." I nodded. This was the arrangement which I had expected. "Would you join us for dinner aboard the _Indefatigable_ while we begin our journey?"

I glanced up at the billowing white sails and thought for a moment. I supposed that it couldn't hurt, though I was loathe to be apart from the_Antony_ any more than was absolutely necessary. "I would be honored."

"Excellent." I resisted the urge to bounce nervously on the balls of my feet. "I will expect you at four bells."

I nodded. "My thanks for your hospitality, Captain Pellew. If you would excuse me, I would like to return to my vessel and make some preparations for the last leg of the journey."

"Of course."

I didn't know how to take my leave of such a proper British captain, so I touched the brim of my hat in a simple but courteous gesture. He mirrored me with an amused expression and dismissed his crew as I led the way back down to the jolly boat.

"Captain," Williams prompted me as we rowed back to the _Antony_.

"Yes?"

"I would like to remind you that the crew would be perfectly willing to continue to serve under your command, should you see fit to purchase a ship and return home."

I smiled at my first lieutenant. "I am appreciative of the crew's loyalty, and I hope that it may serve them as well under an older and wiser captain. But my father's death has severed all ties with America, and I've always wanted to explore England." I examined the rolling waves of pewter water which stretched around me. They seemed somehow different to the deep green seas of my homeland; older, wiser, and full of more blood and tears. "Besides, how likely am I to enter a battle in the Continental Navy? I'm sure I'll return to America eventually, but I'd like to try my hand somewhere new."

Williams looked at me sadly. We had known each other for as long as either of us could remember, and our parting would not be a happy one. The _Antony_ had been our realm, untouchable and isolated, and it was a good life. But that era was ending.

God, what a morbid thing to think at eighteen, I mused. But it was true. My father's death and the decision of my superiors to return my precious ship to its original owners had taken away the two most important things in my life.

"Are we not ties to home?" Taylor asked. He had served under my father, both in the war and as merchants. He had known me since I was born but was never once resentful of serving under me.

"Rest assured that I shall never forget Isaiah Williams and Michael Taylor." I smiled sadly. "I'm sure I shall be out of your memory long before you are out of mine, my friends." A wave of homesickness and sadness overcame me as we glided into the shadow of the _Antony_. Before one of them could respond, I practically leapt up the side of my ship and stalked to my cabin.

* * *

"Forgive me for prying," Pellew began, and I realized with a smile that he could no longer contain his curiosity, "but how does such a young woman become the captain of a ship?"

"I've been sailing since I was born," I explained. By now I was used to telling the same story word for word each time I was asked. "My mother died and my father, who became a merchant after the war, preferred to keep me with him on his ships."

"And you learned your trade there?"

"Yes. You see, my care was entrusted to certain sailors, such as Mr. Taylor, who still needed to go about their duties. I suppose they thought that I could at least be more of a help than a hindrance if they trained me in a few aspects of sailing." For some reason, I was going into more detail than usual. "My father, a fairly progressive man, accepted my skills and let me assist on his vessel as one of the crew as I matured. He began by assigning me menial, safe tasks, but as I proved myself, he realized that I could be just as worthy as one of the men." I could see Williams glancing at me; he knew my usual story, and this longer and more factual version seemed to surprise him. "He used his influence to allow me to enter the Navy as a midshipman. This was when I was fourteen. I progressed through the ranks rather quickly, as skilled sailors with an eye for leadership are scarce in our still-maturing country."

One of the British officers stifled a snort, which I decided to take in good humor. "Besides, no one liked to make my father believe that I was being treated unfairly for my skills. I was made captain of the _Antony_ with the condition that I employed an experienced crew. I suppose the small ship was my test- or it would have been, if I hadn't almost immediately been told to bring it here and return it to you."

Captain Pellew raised an eyebrow as I took a slightly breathless sip of my wine. "Well," he began, "I'm not sure what the Admiralty will think of this story, but I suppose that anyone with the skills and experience has the right to do what they were clearly born to do."

Surprised, I decided once and for all that I liked Captain Pellew. He clearly had an open mind to balance his strict discipline.

"You say that your father fought in the revolution?"

I tensed slightly, as did Williams. "Yes, Sir. He did."

"What does he think of you coming over here to make a gift to the English of the ship which he captured?"

"My father died two months ago, Captain Pellew," I said softly to my plate. "But I am sure that he would understand that allies can be made of the most unlikely acquaintances."

At least the Captain had the grace to look truly sorry, and even said as much.

"It's perfectly all right, you weren't to know. It…" I paused, unsure of whether to continue. "I think that this mission is really a test, if I'm honest, sir. It was complications from a musket wound inflicted during the war which finally killed him. I suppose my superiors wanted to see whether my emotionally delicate female personality would be able to handle the events in such close proximity." I offered up a lopsided grin. "Do you find me appropriately civil, considering?"

Captain Pellew gazed at me for a minute as if he was trying to scrutinize my thoughts. "More than, Captain Moore. I find your conduct admirable."

"Thank you, sir."

The rest of the evening passed with much less tense conversation. Instead, we discussed my voyage across the Atlantic, my plans for returning my crew to America, and various challenges which I had faced as a young woman captaining a ship.

When I finally stood to leave, Captain Pellew and his officers escorted Williams and myself back up on deck, where several crewmembers tried unsuccessfully to hide their stares. I assumed my normal stance with chin up and legs planted firmly beneath me.

"It should be just a few minutes before the jolly boat collects us," Williams informed me, and we were left to wait by ourselves as Captain Pellew was called away to deal with some disturbance belowdecks.

After several moments, the enormity of my situation hit me. I was an eighteen-year-old girl who had been captain of her ship for barely a month before her father, her last living relation, died and she was forced to return her precious ship to the men who had killed him.

"O pardon me thou bleeding piece of earth, that I am meek and gentle with these butchers!" I muttered to myself, remembering the character after which my ship had been christened.

I was surprised to hear an answering voice behind me. "Thou art the ruins of the noblest man that ever lived in the tide of times. Woe to the hand that shed this costly blood." I whipped around to see the red-haired midshipman who had stared at me that morning. He was leaning nonchalantly against the edge of the ship, apparently content to watch the goings-on and quote Shakespeare at strangers. He gestured around at the ship. "I'm guessing that's us?"

I smiled sadly. "I'm afraid so. But I think I'll draw the line at 'a curse shall light upon the limbs of men.' I wish you no ill will, only that my father was alive." Williams glanced worriedly at me but I ignored him. "And who are you, sir, who is so well-acquainted with Antony's soliloquy?"

He made to salute, then hesitated and mimicked my earlier hat-touch to the captain. I almost laughed and corrected him, then decided against it. "Midshipman Kennedy… sir?" I did have to laugh when the last word came out as a question.

"Pleased to meet you. I'm Captain Moore."

Before the strange conversation could continue, I heard the incongruous call of an American voice and realized that the jolly boat had arrived to ferry me back to the _Antony_. "Perhaps we can continue this literary discussion at a later time. Good evening."

"Sir."

* * *

Tongue between my teeth, I scratched out the third version of my letter to the Admiralty of the Royal Navy. Six bells of first watch had just struck, but I refused to blow out my candle and lie down until I was satisfied with my words.

_To the Admiralty of the His Majesty's Royal Navy,_

_My name is Captain Abitha Moore of the Continental Navy ship the Antony. I hereby return her, formerly known as the HMS Serenity, to her original owner._

_I have two requests. Firstly, for accommodations to be found for my loyal crew on a ship to America. They have served me well and do not deserve to be stranded in England._

_Secondly, I wish to be allowed to serve in His Majesty's Royal Navy. I know that the case is unusual, but I have great experience. Any of my superiors in the Continental Navy can attest to my skills._

_Thank you for your consideration,_

_Captain Abitha Moore_

No, that wouldn't do at all. I threw down my quill in frustration. I had managed to sound childish, pleading, and arrogant all in the space of a few paragraphs, and I thought I might have also inadvertently insulted their country. I sighed and snuffed out my candle. I would have a few days to work on the letter, anyway.

I settled into my hammock as seven bells sounded, yawning widely. Williams would be going on watch soon, the poor man. After reminding myself that I was the one who had set the watch schedules, I wasn't sorry enough to get back up and go visit him, so I settled fairly quickly into a light but refreshing sleep.


	2. Chapter 2

**Chapter II**

I woke up at two bells of the morning watch and was unable to return to sleep. I could feel the speed and movement of the ship more acutely than usual, as if I was deeply connected to it. After growing tired of just rocking in my bunk and listening to the gurgle of the water slipping past the hull, I got up and dressed.

The sky was still a dark inky blue when I made my way up on deck. A few clouds had come to rest above us, but they didn't seem to hold any threat of snow. I blew gently on my hands; while not as bitter as a winter on the eastern coast of America, the cold still managed to penetrate my bones.

"Good morning, Captain," Williams greeted me. I nodded and he seemed to read my mind because he continued, "I didn't feel like sleeping. I thought I'd stay out for another watch."

"That's fine," I replied. "Just make sure than you get a good night's sleep before we reach England. I'd hate for you to doze off in front of some respectable Admiral."

I got a smile out of him, which had been my goal. "Aye aye."

"I'm going to walk around for a little while. I assume everything is going well?"

"We're having no trouble following the _Indefatigable_ straight back to Plymouth."

"Excellent." I smiled through my tiredness and cold and made to walk away down the deck. Williams followed.

"Captain," he inquired cautiously, "Are you dealing all right with the loss of the _Antony_?"

I spun around. "I'm dealing much the same as any captain losing their ship, I expect. And I would thank you not to try and coddle me. I am your superior officer."

"Of course, ma'am." He looked down in deference and I regretted the outburst, but only for a moment. The only way that I would ever retain discipline was by being strict.

"I'm going to go up into the rigging for a while, talk to the lads. Let the steward know that I would like breakfast to be served at eight bells."

"Yes ma'am."

"And Williams?"

"Yes?"

"Remember what I said. Get some sleep later."

"Of course."

As I had described, I swung myself up into the network of ropes which made up the overworld of any ship. The cold made my fingers seize up at first, but I warmed the more I climbed. Before long, I was able to make out a figure sitting on the crossbeam of the topsail. I made this my goal.

"This can be a dangerous place to sit when it gets cold," I commented to the unknown person as I hauled myself up to sit next to them. "If you choose the wrong place to put your weight, the ice can make you slip."

They turned to me and I recognized the face of one Midshipman Thomas. Oddly enough, he was almost exactly the same age as I was. It was likely that the only thing which kept us from being close friends was our difference in rank.

"Good morning, Captain," he greeted me and turned back to face the horizon. The brisk air swishing past feathered his light brown hair and turned the tips of his nose and ears pink. "Lieutenant Williams gave me permission to observe our progress from up here. I can descend if you wish it."

"No need, midshipman," I assured him. "I suppose you're hoping to see the sunrise before the end of your watch?"

"My first priority is to do my duty on watch," he said hurriedly, "but yes, I love watching the sunrise at sea."

I had a quick internal debate where thoughts of my warm bed clashed with my wish to see the morning start so beautifully. Since the horizon was already tinged with lavender and the promise of light, I knew that it wouldn't be more than an hour before the show would be over. I flexed my cold fingers. "If it would not disturb you, I shall remain here and watch."

"Of course it would be no disturbance."

We lapsed into companionable silence while the edge of the sky faded from lavender to magenta to orange and the first rays of the sun branched through the few remaining clouds. In the ensuing display of scarlet and gold, the snowy sails of the _Indefatigable _ahead of us seemed to glow. I observed idly that the navy waves, which appeared to be edged with white and gold braid, matched my coat quite well.

Finally, in a blazing glory which belied the frosty weather, the sun dragged itself from the sea and leapt into the sky. Red faded to pink and gold to dull orange as the entire sky suddenly shifted to a pale, watery grey-blue to match the water.

Before I knew it, the display had run its course and I heard seven bells sound below. With a quick nod to Thompson, I scrambled down the rigging and landed on deck with a thud.

"Williams," I called, and he jogged over to me. In the morning light I could see the circles under his eyes, and wondered whether he had really been unable to sleep. It occurred to me that he would miss the _Antony_ as much as I would, and probably just wanted to spend more time with her before he left. "Please inform all hands that breakfast will be taken with all crew, from the captain down to the powder monkeys. Remind everyone that it's at eight bells, please."

"But sir-"

Knowing that he was about to disagree because of the abrupt change in title, I cut him off. "I think it would be good for morale. Just inform everyone."

* * *

That turned out to be our last day aboard the _Antony_. Before we knew it, Plymouth was within sight and the _Indefatigable_ began signaling to us on how and where to weigh anchor.

"Captain Moore," Captain Pellew greeted me when I met him on dry land. Behind me were Williams and Taylor as well as a few of my other best officers, and he was flanked by some of his crew as well.

"Captain Pellew. Thank you for your generosity in escorting us to port."

"Of course." I followed him in silence as he led me into town and to a place where we could send a dispatch to the Admiralty. The whole day passed by in a blur, and soon enough my crewmembers and I were inquiring about rooms and settling down for our first night ashore in several weeks.


	3. Chapter 3

**Chapter III**

"A midshipman! A bloody midshipman!" I stormed as I paced angrily up and down Williams's room. "I'm a captain, damn it! And I returned their bloody ship, and they said I could be a _midshipman_?" My companion didn't respond except with a sour face, so I continued. "And do you know the worst thing? They've stationed me on the HMS _Indefatigable_. I have to serve under Captain Pellew. This is a damned disaster." With this final thought, I threw myself down to sit on the bed and picked up the neatly folded letter.

_Captain Moore,_

_While the allowance of a woman into His Majesty's Royal Navy is highly irregular, Captain Pellew has assured us of your skill and competence. Because of this, you will be stationed aboard the HMS _Indefatigable _as a midshipman. You will be given a trial period of one month, after which time it is at the discretion of your superior officers whether or not you remain in the service._

_Please purchase the necessary uniform in Plymouth and prepare to depart on Captain Pellew's orders._

"Not one mention of the _Antony_!" I moaned for probably the third time as I threw down the letter again. "I sailed their ship across the Atlantic, and I'm given a pat on the head and a position as midshipman. Aboard, of course, the one ship where the captain knew me as another captain. Brilliant."

"Come on, Abitha." In the privacy of the inn, we were back on first name terms as we had always been. "At least they let you in. It's a miracle that they didn't send you on the first ship back home! England isn't known for its progressive mindset, after all."

"I suppose." I didn't want to be reasonable, at least not yet. I wanted to moan and complain as I purchased my uniform and then come to terms with it just in time to leave. "It's not like they have shied away from pressing our merchants into service before…"

"Does this mean you _will_ come home with us?"

I glanced up to see two blue eyes full of hope. I shook my head and his face fell. "I'm sorry, Isaiah. This doesn't change anything. I am entirely determined."

* * *

"Abitha!" a voice called from behind me. I turned from my perch on the low wall which edged the harbor to see my third lieutenant, Felicity Martin, jogging towards me. I knew that she must be wearing her uniform still, and she wore her straight brown hair in the style of the men, but her long cloak helped to disguise her figure. It wasn't of any particular importance since no one was about in the grey, chilly morning.

Shoes clacking on the cobbles, she finally reached me and settled down on the wall next to me. The only other woman in the Continental Navy, Martin was sharp as a whip and strong as a horse. Unlike me, she wasn't there because of any special influence; she had distinguished herself in the militia while disguised as a young man. I didn't know the full story, only that she had saved enough lives to gain the ear of some powerful people. Besides, she had no family to speak of, so there was no one to miss her. After serving for five years, she had qualified to be part of my "experienced crew."

"Abitha."

"Captain," I corrected her absently as I turned away from her again to continue observing the _Antony_. She was bobbing gently in the water, sails furled and deck deserted.

"Captain," she repeated with some emphasis, "you ought to come back to the inn. It's eight bells already, and you must leave for the_Indefatigable_ by five bells."

"Very well," I acquiesced, straightening and brushing off my breeches. I had determined to wear my old uniform until the last.

As we strode back through the awakening streets, we received many a wary glance. Not only were we women in naval uniforms, but our clothes were strange enough that we could just be identified as American. One woman went so far as to pull her son back inside as we passed, which made me chuckle in spite of myself.

The only person who didn't shy away from us was another woman, perhaps twenty five years of age, striding with equal purpose in the opposite direction. She wore a cloak much like Martin's, and beneath the hem I caught a glimpse of a bottle green coat and tall brown leather boots. A long, thin scar, still pink and slightly shiny, slit her cheek from the corner of her left eye all the way down to her jaw. As her eyes met mine, one side of her mouth tugged up in a slight smile. I nodded. There were no questions exchanged and no greeting, but I knew that uniform. She was an aviator.

I wondered briefly if women were allowed to serve in the British Aerial Corps; some American breeds would only accept female captains, I remembered. Perhaps they had the same problem.

By the time I had lazily followed my train of thought to its conclusion, we were back at the inn. The disgruntled innkeeper had apparently been convinced to rise particularly early and make breakfast; seated before me were all of my officers, from Midshipman Thomas to Lieutenant Williams, digging into piles of steaming eggs and bacon. The delicious scent of fresh coffee permeated the room and the table was practically groaning under the feast. As Martin and I stopped in the doorway, she cleared her throat with annoyance.

"Captain Moore," she announced, if somewhat unnecessarily. Everyone leapt to their feet, though I noticed that Taylor had to glare at Williams before he put down his mug of coffee.

I grinned at the cheerful sight; it might be the last time in a while, possibly ever, that I would sit and talk with this fine group of people. They had put up with me as an experiment, at first, and had slowly come to trust my judgment as a captain equal to any other, and for that I would be eternally grateful. Beaming even more to keep tears from filling my eyes, I gestured to everyone to sit down. Her indignation overcome, Martin settled in next to Williams and started on the teetering pile of toast next to her elbow.

I sat down and heaped my plate with eggs. I knew my ships, and I knew that a midshipman's meals were nothing to covet. I was determined to make the most of a last hearty meal.

Content to listen to the lively conversation and slowly make my way through an entire pot of coffee, I looked around and observed my crew. I knew everything about them, even things that they had yet to admit to themselves. My fourth lieutenant, a tall young man called Jones, kept a close eye on Martin and never hesitated to save her the trouble of filling her own cup. Their conversation was easy and full of laughter. Thomas, meanwhile, kept stealing glances at one of the other midshipmen, who had yet to notice his attentions. I smiled into my cup; as a female captain, I had no ground to stand on when it came to judging others. Taylor and Williams pretended not to get along, but when it came down to it they were closer than almost anyone else on the ship. Their joined attempts finally drew me into the conversation, and before I knew it I was enjoying myself so much that time began slipping away rather more rapidly than was helpful.

"Ten o'clock!" I finally yelped, glancing up at the old clock in the corner of the room. Scattering bacon rinds over the tablecloth and spilling the dregs of my coffee onto the floor, I beckoned to two officers to follow me upstairs and ran ahead of them. I had to be aboard the _Inde_ in half an hour.

* * *

"Goodbye!" I called, waving desperately. The small crowd of people on shore diminished rapidly: Williams waving his hat, his face twisted with sadness; Taylor, standing stock-still and saluting respectfully; Martin, her cloak blowing in the morning breeze; and Jones, rather more interested in Martin than in me, though I could not hold it against him. I had bid a hurried farewell to the rest of my crew at the inn and the docks, where the sailors had been waiting with a packet of sweet buns to take with me on the ship. I looked down at my sea chest, where I knew that my old uniform was likely becoming sticky from such close contact with the sweets, but it wouldn't matter, I reminded myself, if I never wore it again.

Not long after the group of officers on the shore disappeared, the _Indefatigable_ loomed out of the dissipating mist. Her sails were fluttering restlessly, anxious to swell to their full potential and bear her great wooden mass out to sea where she belonged. I clambered up her side, used to a similar, if shorter, climb, and was met by none other than Captain Pellew himself.

"Midshipman Moore," he said. "I have been informed of the conditions of your service."

I swallowed my pride and saluted. "Sir."

Though he didn't smile, I saw that the memory of our equal rank was as fresh in his mind as it was in mine. "Mr. Hornblower!" he called, and a dark-haired midshipman who I remembered from my earlier visit appeared seemingly out of the woodwork. "Please show Ms. Moore to the midshipmen's berth."

"Aye aye." The young man turned to me and I could see that he was nursing a wounded shoulder; a bandage kept his arm from moving too far and his pale, strained face clearly expressed his pain. "This way, Miss."

I nodded once more to the captain, following Hornblower down into the lower decks of the ship. "My sea chest is coming aboard for'ard," I half-explained, half-questioned.

"I'll see that it comes aboard," he replied monotonously, then paused, as if the words had sparked some memory. Then he continued on without speaking.

When we finally reached the middies' berth, he pulled aside a makeshift curtain and gestured to a group of four closely-placed hammocks. "The bare one will be yours. It belonged to…" Another strained pause. "A midshipman who was killed in action recently." He looked around at the cramped quarters, then at me, apparently realizing the situation for the first time. "Not much privacy, I'm afraid." A slight flush rose to his cheeks.

I smiled in what I hoped was a reassuring way. "I've been in the service alongside men for almost my entire life. I assure you, I am used to it."

The expression on his face told me that he wanted to know more, and I waited patiently for him to ask, but his gaze drifted to the empty cot and the silence stretched on. Then he asked politely if I needed anything, I declined, and he directed me towards the lieutenant who would be providing me with orders.

"I'll see to it that your sea chest is brought below."

"Thank you."

And that was my first experience as a midshipman aboard the HMS _Indefatigable_.


	4. Chapter 4

**Chapter IV**

My first month aboard the _Inde_ was uneventful in terms of combat, but highly interesting in terms of shipboard life. I shared my little corner of the middies' berth with Mr. Hornblower and another man who had transferred from the _Justinian_. Privacy, as Horatio had pointed out on that first morning, was a bit of a difficulty; I adapted the habit of always keeping on my undershirt, and changing my breeches under the thin blanket of my hammock became less awkward as time went on. Otherwise, the midshipmen at least were willing to accept me over time.

It took me a full week to realize that Midshipman Kennedy, the red-haired young man with whom I had spoken my first time aboard the_Inde_, was the one who had previously inhabited my new hammock. Horatio gave me a terse, short version of the story of his death, which led naturally to an explanation of his shoulder wound. That night, I lay uncomfortably and unable to sleep, picturing the sad, unnecessary death which had allowed me to take my place.

I had had some fear, when I first came aboard, of being approached in an untoward way by some of the crew. The only incident was when one of the sailors, a shrewd young man recently transferred to Horatio's division, cornered me as I was coming below decks from a late watch.

"Hey lady," he hissed as I tried to stride around him. He shot out a hand against the wall to block my path, and in my hurry I tried to duck and ended up knocking my hat to the floor. "What's a pretty thing like you doing all dressed up like a middie?" I choked slightly with surprise as he pressed his forearm against my chest, effectively trapping me, and brushed my knee with his other hand. "You don't need a uniform like that. Perhaps I can relieve you of it."

His disgusting and insolent language sparked my temper enough that my hands clenched into fists and thudded against the wall behind me as I tried to avoid striking him across the face. "Release me at once," I snarled, attempting to use my voice and glare to communicate the seriousness of the situation.

"Now why would I-" As his hand fluttered up to the inside of my thigh, I snapped and brought my knee and arm up at the same time with approximately the force of a charging horse. The former collided with his groin and the latter with his chin, leaving him gasping and spitting chips of teeth against the wall.

Running footsteps thundered down the hallway as I stooped to pick up my hat. As I brushed it off and replaced it on my head, Horatio's furious face appeared out of the dim light. I nodded reassuringly as he glanced at me and walked over to meet him, ignoring the man curled in pain on the floor.

"Don't report him," I murmured as I led him away by the arm, much to his distaste. "I'd rather that word of that spreads and I earn some respect than people think that I tell tales to the captain."

"He attacked you!" he growled indignantly. "I can't let him get away without punishment." For some misguided reason, Horatio had assigned himself as my protector through the rougher first week of my posting. I allowed it because I thought that it likely made him feel better about whatever events had transpired before my arrival.

A low moan came from behind us and I smiled slightly. "You didn't. Trust me."

* * *

"Lieutenant! That's brilliant!"

Horatio smiled modestly. "I don't know, I'm sure that the captain had a good reason for recommending me, but I think that there are plenty of other-"

"Oh, hush," I grinned. "You deserve it."

"But your month is almost up!" He said, smile fading. "You won't- might not- be on board much longer."

"O ye of little faith," I scoffed, but we both know that our friendship would suffer a forced end sometime within the next week. As happy as I was with the results of the Royal Navy's little experiment, the sailors were still determined that having a woman on board was bad luck, and it was beginning to affect the crew's morale. Perhaps in peacetime another attempt would be made, but with the current state of affairs, it simply wasn't practical. I understood that.

"Miss," Styles asked hesitantly, his head appearing around the corner. I turned and noticed Horatio theatrically responding to the title as well.

Trying not to laugh, I responded, "Yes?"

"The captain wishes to see you in his cabin, Miss."

"Thank you Styles." The sailor nodded nervously and disappeared. Even the best of the crew were uncomfortable in my presence.

"Well," I said with false cheer in my voice, "I suppose this is when we find out."

To my surprise, Horatio held out a hand for me to shake. "Good luck, Abitha."

"Thank you."

* * *

The first thing which I noticed when I came up on deck- indeed, it was impossible to notice anything else- was that a dragon was perched on the deck of the _Inde_. Thankfully, it was only a Greyling, so the activity of the ship was not physically disrupted too much. Not that any of the crew were willing to remain on deck for very long in the presence of the creature.

I was familiar with the American breeds of dragons; most were native and bonded with members of the Indian tribes, but some of these had been crossbred with European dragons to create unique breeds. The largest covert was in Boston, where I had spent some time as a child, and so I was used to the reptilian silhouettes winging their way overhead, but I was rarely this close to one. The dragon opened its eyes as I approached it and, when it saw me, sat upright, frightening a small group of sailors who were still attempting to carry out their duties.

Before I could speak to the beautiful creature, a tall young man with dark hair hopped down from the leather rigging which harnessed the dragon. Once again, I saw the bottle green coat and knew that he was an aviator. The gold bars on his shoulder identified him as a captain.

I saluted and he returned the gesture before lounging casually against his dragon's arm. After looking me up and down for a minute, he simply pointed in the direction of the captain's cabin. "Pellew and Roland are waiting for you."

"Oh, er… thank you, sir." I saluted again, earning a chuckle from the young captain, and disappointedly turned my back on the Greyling. When I reached Pellew's cabin, I adjusted my hat and coat before knocking, highly confused by the entire affair.

"Enter."

Captain Pellew was standing by his desk with his usual stately manner. In a chair by the window sat the woman who I had seen in Portsmouth. I gaped for a moment before standing at attention; her scar was older now, of course, though it looked like it would never disappear entirely. What had surprised me this time were the gold bars on _her_ shoulder.

_This woman is a captain? Captain Roland?_

My thoughts were answered when Pellew spoke, his voice carrying as much contained confusion as it had when we had first met. "Midshipman Moore, this is Captain Roland of the British Aerial Corps."

Captain Roland stood to shake my hand, and I hurriedly cancelled my salute to respond in kind. "Jane," she corrected the introduction, much to my surprise.

"Midshipman Abitha Moore." As confused as I was, I was determined to mirror her poise. Pellew simply looked on, clearly struggling to maintain a neutral expression, as Captain Roland- Jane- ignored him.

"Have you ever considered joining the Aerial Corps?" she asked bluntly.

I blinked. "I spent some time in Boston as a child, and our largest covert is housed there. I am familiar with dragons, but no, my father's trade meant that the navy was the only real choice for me. Besides, it was a slim enough chance of my entering the navy, much less the Corps."

Jane looked me up and down thoughtfully, taking in my crisp uniform and pristine shoes. Old habits die hard. "Would you consider it now, knowing that you cannot stay in the navy?"

"I could return to America and resume my former posting," I retaliated, but caught myself when I realized what she was saying. "Do you mean to say that I could be an aviator for England?"

Jane gestured at herself. "As much as the government dislikes it, Longwings will only accept female captains. That means that we need to have a few trained up and ready. Normally they would have grown up in the Corps, but a worldly woman such as yourself should have no trouble adapting to our lifestyle."

I hunted for mockery in her words and found none. Apparently, she truly believed that I could become the captain of a dragon. "I don't understand. Why me?"

"You're plucky." She grinned lopsidedly. "Any woman who can convince the Admiralty to let her into the navy has a lot to be said for her. I saw you in Portsmouth and decided to discover your story, in the hopes that you might be convinced to come with me."

So I might join the Aerial Corps and eventually become captain of a Longwing. I had never seen one of the fearsome acid-spitters, but I had heard tell of them. If England had had the foresight or resources to station one in America, our revolution might never have succeeded.

"It would be my pleasure," I responded, surprising myself more than anyone. I did not know if I would keep my wits about me on a dragon, or if I would ever be able to get away back to America, or even if I would ever see my few friends in the navy again. All I knew was that I liked adventure, probably too much for my own good, and if I couldn't stay in the navy I wanted to do something just as exciting.

"Excellent. Captain Pellew has already explained to me the terms of your station aboard the _Indefatigable_. Are you prepared to leave at once, your month of probation having ended?"

"Yes," I acquiesced before I could lose my nerve. "My sea chest is below, it contains all of my possessions."

"You and I can bring it up and attach it to Aequitas's rigging," Jane said, once again cutting off Captain Pellew, who had not been able to get a word in for the entire exchange. "But first put on your warmest coat; it's a long flight to Loch Laggan."


	5. Chapter 5

**Chapter V**

A brisk wind whipped loose strands of hair into my face. Even so, after the exertion of carrying half the weight of my sea chest up to the main deck, I was sweating under my dress jacket and heavy winter coat. Aequitas, the Greyling, was surreptitiously sniffing me; I could hear his snuffling breath behind my back.

"Farewell, Horatio," I said sadly, shaking the newly-made Acting Lieutenant's hand one more time. "This is certainly an interesting turn of events."

"Indeed." He inclined his head stiffly but squeezed my hand reassuringly. "It was a pleasure to make your acquaintance, Mid- Cap- Miss Moore."

I chuckled. "I am sure that I will see you sooner or later. We're at war, after all." I turned to Pellew. "I cannot thank you enough, Captain Pellew, for your patience and consideration."

The captain, who had been horribly befuddled throughout the entire situation, cleared his throat and nodded. "Yes, well, of course." He glanced at Jane Roland, who was once again wearing her long cloak and unrecognizable as a woman. "It was… fascinating… and I wish you luck." Apparently unable to articulate further sentiments, he nodded in a sort of confused finality. "I'm sure the Corps will be very pleased to have you." And that was all.

Aequitas's young companion, who was introduced to me as Captain Harris, helped me to swing my chest into the dragon's belly rigging, which the creature bore patiently despite the fact that it was really meant to carry parcels. Then I was handed a leather harness, into which I managed to slip my legs and arms in some semblance of security.

"Here," Harris said, speaking to me for only the second time, as he handed me a sort of brass fastener. "Hook it onto that loop there on your harness- yes, like that- and then latch it onto the loops on Aequi's rigging. It'll keep you secure."

Before I could back out of it, he himself scrambled aboard the dragon, dragging me along by the arm. I heard a few muffled laughs from the sailors and my face flushed red, but my foot only slipped once before I found purchase on one of the leather straps. Confidence returning with every step, I hauled myself the rest of the short distance to the top and hooked myself securely to Aequitas's harness, only a few feet behind where Harris was doing final checks before taking off. Jane Roland clambered aboard and sat directly behind me, and I suddenly hoped desperately that she would at least try to catch me, should I slip during our flight.

"Captain!" Harris called, saluting, and Jane mirrored the gesture, so I did, too. Captain Pellew saluted back and then stepped away from the dragon, his small cluster of frightened lieutenants not hesitating to follow. "All right, Aequitas. Are you ready?"

"Of course!" the dragon exclaimed excitedly, suddenly unfurling his wings and testing to see how much room he would have to take off. I forced my eyes to remain open, and after a few seconds they started to water from being held so wide in the frosty air. "Shall we go, Harris?"

"Whenever you're ready."

And with that, Aequitas leapt into the air, his wings beating furiously as we cleared the sails and went shooting upwards. My stomach dropped with the first leap, but it only took a moment for me to recognize the gentle, bobbing motion into which we settled; it was no more disturbing than braving a storm in a poorly-steered ship, and perhaps even less so. Besides, the sea spread out from us in a frothy, undulating mass, and I was soon lost in awe, content to examine it.

We flew east to Brighton, where Aequitas landed briefly and Harris collected a few dispatches. Then we struck out across England's interior, skirting London and eventually passing over Oxford. I only recognized these large cities, as sea charts were not terribly detailed, but I would soon be able to trace our exact route. It is strange to think that I was so unfamiliar with Britain at that point in my life.

We made good time. My two coats failed miserably in keeping out the chill, however, and I was soon soaked to the bone by the light mist which populated the sky. Even though my breeches were thick and soft, my legs were soon seizing with cold and raw from rubbing against the dragon's hide. Reluctant to speak out and anxious to reach our destination, I remained silent for many hours.

My fellow passengers eventually noted my discomfort when a small wind suddenly sprang up, causing Aequitas to dive perhaps six meters. My legs temporarily ceased their contact- and were then painfully reunited with- his back, and I let out a small, weak whimper.

Roland either did not hear or took no notice, but Harris looked over his shoulder and must have noticed my miserable expression. He fumbled with a leather pouch at his waist and withdrew a creased old map, which he pinned against Aequitas's neck with one hand while he studied it. After a minute or so, he folded it back up as he turned around to speak.

"We're less than an hour from Manchester!" he yelled against the wind. "If you can make it there, we will stop for the night!"

I nodded, trying with difficulty to hide my discomfort.

* * *

Aequitas met the ground with a jarring impact, causing me to whimper again and slide slightly to one side. As Harris freed himself from his harness and Roland slid gracefully to the ground, I painfully swung my legs to the same side and tried to pick my way down. This, of course, ended with me falling onto my face in the churned turf outside the small covert. It took me less than a second to spring back to my feet, biting my lip against the pain and shuddering from the cold, but the damage to my pride was done.

"Need a hand there?" Harris asked, smiling easily as he loped to my side.

"No thank you, I am perfectly fine," I bit back, more embarrassed than annoyed, but he withdrew his hand and retreated, no longer smiling.

"Very well."

The hurt expression on his face made me want to apologize immediately, but before I could form satisfactory words, Harris had swung a leg up into the harness and was rummaging around for the appropriate dispatches. I continued to brush mud from my breeches and look around.

There were three great halls which opened directly onto the furrowed courtyard. Only one looked large enough for a Longwing or Regal Copper, and the other two were barely large enough for a Greyling. In two of the halls, the stone was cracked and mossy and water pooled on the worn floor. Only the smallest building held some semblance of shelter.

Harris looked at this with distaste but Aequitas shuffled towards it with his usual alacrity. "I have never been in Manchester," he said excitedly as he folded his wings and squeezed into the opening. "I have been in many coverts, but not this one!"

His captain chuckled, stroking the dragon's nose as he settled himself, and I looked on, an outsider in their world. "Are you quite comfortable, my sweet?"

Aequitas bobbed his head in affirmation and I ducked mine, almost embarrassed at this glimpse of their intimacy. Fortunately, before I could do anything more awkward than I already had, Roland reappeared from inside the run-down barracks alongside the dragon halls.

"I'm afraid this covert has gone unused for years," she half-explained, half-apologized. "There are very few rooms still in working repair."

I shrugged casually. "I'm sure I have seen worse."

* * *

As it turned out, I had only seen slightly worse. One old, grizzled aviator kept permanent residence in the covert, and it was to him that Harris delivered the dispatches. They would be transferred to the next courier flying west, though what they contained I knew not. Other than this man's well-maintained quarters, there were two bedrooms, in much the same condition as the dragon halls. Roland and I shared a room with two moldy beds and a dripping ceiling, and Harris was even worse off: the cracked walls of his quarters allowed a stiff breeze to gust through.

There wasn't even a proper mess hall; we ate a small supper of cold bread and cheese on the steps outside the covert. Fortunately, the old aviator had a bottle of good wine, which made the meal more appetizing. Unfortunately, Aequitas was devouring a lanky bull at the same time, which had the opposite effect.

I made a valiant attempt, but suddenly there was a loud splintering sound and blood spattered onto my boots. I swallowed heavily and set down the dry remains of my meal. Even though I was used to supping in the stormiest of seas without turning green, it would take me a long while to adjust to the eating habits of dragons.

"Are you going to finish that?" Harris immediately asked, speaking to me for the first time since our arrival. When I shook my head, he grabbed the food and crammed it into his mouth.

Had one of my midshipmen displayed such behavior in my presence, I might have issued them a stern warning, or even an extra watch. As it was, I didn't like to reprimand a captain, however undisciplined his manners.

Clearly Roland sensed my discomfort, because she shot a glare at Harris, who at least had the grace to look sorry. He swallowed his enormous mouthful and took a swig of wine, eyes averted.

That first evening with the aviators, I retreated in on myself and barely spoke two words. I am sure that they thought me rude and aloof, but my navy ideals were shocked by the casual, informal manner of their speaking. Even as a fairly liberal captain, I maintained proper navy procedures.

Fortunately, the two of them were able to carry the conversation, discussing this battle or that promising new cross between a Regal Copper and some French breed of which I had never heard. When it became too cold to remain outside, Harris hugged Aequitas's nose and then clapped Roland on the shoulder.

"'Night, captain."

"Good night, Ignatius."

I held back a snicker, and the tall young captain turned to me and quickly offered his hand to shake. "Good night, Miss Moore." His short tone implied that he would stand for no teasing.

I wished that I had not snapped at him if he was going to be so reserved. I tried a soft smile, unused to showing the expression to strangers but determined to keep on good terms with the only two aviators I knew. "Good night, Captain Harris." I hesitated, remembering the earlier blood bath. "May I… may I say good night to Aequitas?"

He looked at me for a moment, apparently trying to decide whether I was serious, and when he saw no jest in my eyes he practically beamed. "Yes, of course!"

I walked over to the dragon, whose pebbly eyelids were drooping over tired pupils. As I approached, however, his slitted nostrils flared and one eye opened lazily. "Hello, Aequitas," I said lightly, extending one hand.

Humming happily, the dragon nuzzled forward into my palm. I almost recoiled, but then I realized how warm and smooth the scales of his snout were. In fact, excepting the fine scratches and the overlapping seams, they were like glass which had been left sitting in bright sunlight. I stroked him happily while Harris looked on, grinning, and the wind blew steadily colder.

At last, it started raining, and the bitter drops splashing down the necks of our coats drove us inside. My eyes were still wide with wonder at the dusty, sweet smell of the dragon, and the delicious way that his humming had tickled my hand.

Roland smiled knowingly as we shoved our beds against the wall we shared with the warmer kitchen.


	6. Chapter 6

**Chapter VI**

I slept in my clothes, having forgotten that my sea chest was still out with Aequitas until everyone was sound asleep. This was fortunate, considering how damp the room was and how bitterly cold. I might have frozen if it wasn't for my warm coat.

Captain Harris was not so lucky. I had the impression that he usually slept close to Aequitas and his warmth, and his quarters were even worse off than ours.

As I struggled up the harness, ill-rested, sore, and denied the comfort of coffee, Harris was hauling himself up just ahead of me. I missed a buckle with my hand as I yawned, causing me to slip a few inches and let out an undignified squeak.

He turned to make sure I had not fallen. "Are you-" He interrupted himself with a fit of dry coughing, forced to grip the harness tightly so that he did not fall onto me and tumble us both to the ground. I reached up to put a steadying hand on his back as his entire body shook with the force of the spasms.

I withdrew my support as soon as Harris regained his breath, but I was concerned. "Are you sure that it's a good idea for you to fly?"

He glanced down at me, distaste written across his features. "Of course. It was cold last night, but I am perfectly fine."

I noticed how pale he looked, but I nodded and said nothing. I was an intruder to this life, and I had no right to correct him. I was simply glad that he had not mentioned my supporting hand.

"Are we ready?" Roland asked, strolling up and managing to look pristine and fiercely beautiful, despite the fact that she could not have slept any better than I.

"Yes," Harris responded brightly, and Aequitas gave his harness an unfortunately-timed shake. I slid sideways, too surprised to even let out a yelp, and the muddy ground threatened me from below with a broken leg. Before I could even think rationally, I whipped out my harness buckle and latched onto a leather strap as I fell past it, bringing myself to a jerking halt.

Without speaking, Roland guided one of my feet back to a resting place and shared a look with Harris. Her raised eyebrow and self-satisfied expression clearly said "I told you so."

* * *

"Do you think we can make it today?" Harris called back, eyeing my grimace.

I looked around me. The sun was setting and frosty stars were emerging along the horizon to our right. It was no longer damp, so my coat provided some measure of protection against the cold, but I was still losing feeling in my toes and fingers. I tugged these from their grip on the harness in front of me and flexed them, noting their blue-white tones with some alarm.

"Yes," Roland yelled from behind me, and Harris turned back around before I could respond. They had their padded leather flying coats, I reminded myself, which kept out moisture as well as cold. They were also accustomed to extended flights. Determined not to be the weak link, I tucked my chin into my collar and my hands between my thighs and Aequitas's hide.

The dark, featureless land rushed past beneath us. One or the other of my companions had pointed out Glasgow almost an hour before; we still had much of our journey ahead of us.

* * *

By the time Aequitas circled gently downwards and landed on a paved courtyard, I was nearly unconscious. The cold, thin air, the dipping and diving as the weather worsened, and my exhaustion all made my head spin.

I barely noticed the clack of the dragon's claws as they met the ground or the jolt which ran through his frame. Nor did I notice when a ground crew came running up, yawning and tugging their coats closer about them, or when Harris gently unbuckled me from the harness and handed me to Roland.

I was vaguely aware of being half-dragged up a flight of stairs and into a warm, dimly-lit room, of having my coat pulled from my shoulders and my shoes from my feet and falling onto a soft bed. Then I was lost to the world.

* * *

When I awoke, sunlight was streaming through thin windows in the stone walls. I was in a bed, not large, but certainly better than any I had occupied for a long time. It felt as though it was rocking back and forth, though that could have been me adjusting to being on dry land. Someone had tugged blankets up over my legs in a halfhearted gesture, and now I kicked them off in an attempt to stand and look around the sparse circular room.

The instant I tried to support my own weight, I bit my lip with a groan. On the insides of my legs, my breeches were stained with seeping spots of blood. I undressed gingerly to examine myself; what little skin below my waist was not cracked, bleeding, or removed entirely was red and sore. The ache penetrated right through my muscles and down to the bone. My feet, though thankfully not frostbitten, were swollen and tender from thumping against Aequitas's sides for so many hours. My hands were blistered and cramped from gripping the harness straps and biting ice crystals had actually left fine scratches across my cheeks and chin.

A pitcher of hot water with a basin and cloth stood on a low table to one side of the window, and I limped my way over to this. I could not do much for my legs, which had begun to scab, but I allowed the water to run down them and over my feet, however much it stung. Then I set about meticulously cleaning dirt and oil from beneath my fingernails and wiping my face. When I finally felt clean again and the water in the basin was a murky crimson, I staggered over to my sea chest in search of acceptable clothes.

A bottle green coat with a fine cut and long hem- so much more fitting for a woman than the bulky naval uniforms- was folded neatly over the top. I set this aside and withdrew some linens with which to bind my legs and hands, a reasonably-new white shirt, and fresh breeches and stockings. I donned these with no small amount of difficulty and also retrieved my favorite shoes. They were boots, extending almost up to my knees, of dark brown leather. They were masculine enough to fit my tastes but somehow more feminine than the buckled shoes of most uniforms. Until I was otherwise instructed, I thought that they might be worn with my new coat.

I was just shrugging into this when a timid knock sounded at the door. "Come in," I called, a little startled by the gravely hoarseness of my own voice.

The thick wooden door crept open, at first only revealing a landing on a curving flight of stone stairs. Then the end of a long, dark braid swung into view, and was soon followed by the figure of a young girl. She might have been twelve, but her height and figure suggested that she could be younger. "H- Harcourt, Miss," she introduced herself. "I'm to help you get ready." She apparently noticed that I was already dressed, and hurriedly added, "And show you downstairs to breakfast."

"Very well." I tucked my soiled clothing between my sea chest and the wall and staggered down the stairs after her, wincing as my legs continued to protest.

Young Harcourt skipped merrily into a great hall filled with officers in green coats and other members of the crews in brown or blue attire. Several tables were cluttered with coffee and tea and a servant strode past me carrying three heaping plates of eggs. My mouth watered even as I felt a pang of loneliness, remembering how a month ago I had been in this same situation with my crew. Now I knew no one.

Then I smiled as I caught sight of Roland, apparently discussing my appearance with Harcourt (she looked mildly concerned) and Harris at an adjacent table shoveling ham into his mouth. Once in a while he would stop and cough, but his color had returned and there was certainly no problem with his appetite.

I picked my way through the crowded room and tried to take in as much as possible. I caught sight of a few other female officers, and most of them wore their hair in a long plait down over one shoulder. Mine was still damp and curly from washing that morning, and it was barely contained by its tie at the nape of my neck. Outside the frosted windows, I glimpsed a couple of dragons wheeling and diving in complex maneuvers.

Roland looked me up and down as I approached. I tried to smile, but that made one of the scratches on my cheekbone reopen and I felt a stinging drop of blood trail down my cheek.

She gestured me into a chair, and I fell into it ungracefully. Someone poured me a cup of coffee up to the brim and shoved a plate in my general direction, and I realized that I was ravenous. I could only gesture in response to Roland's rapid questions as I crammed food into my mouth.

"How are you?" Shrug. "Are your toes frostbitten?" No. "But your legs are sore." Yes. "Well, you're doing better than most do on their first flight, especially considering that you weren't raised in the Corps."

I swallowed heavily and gulped some coffee before answering. "I'm well, thank you. Just a bit tired and hungry."

Harris spoke from directly behind me and I jumped, having not realized that he had come over. "I still think that that was too much for a first flight." He nodded to Roland. "She insisted that you would be all right, I wanted to do it in three days."

I shrugged once again, hoping that I appeared nonchalant. Apparently I had passed some kind of test, and I was glad, but I still wished that it might have waited until I was more adjusted into the Aerial Corps.

"Well then," Roland said, ignoring Harris, "I have your orders from Admiral Lenton." She pulled a folded paper from an inside pocket of her coat and handed it to me.

I wiped my mouth and scanned the text. "It says…" I raised an eyebrow. "Harness crew? 'I recognize your prestigious career, but feel that it would be optimal for you to become familiar with dragons and the Corps before you become part of the crew. Once you have adjusted, you will of course be promoted.' Hmm." I finished reading and grinned. "It looks like I'm on Aequitas's crew!"

My heart sank quietly at the fact that I now had even less authority than a midshipman, but the fact that my unfamiliarity with dragons was actually being considered immediately made me feel better. Besides, I would be serving under Harris, so I at least knew that he would treat me well.

"Brilliant!" the captain in question exclaimed. "I have two layabouts for that right now, I expect you'll whip them into shape better than I can. Speaking of which," he continued, glancing at a watch which he extracted from somewhere inside his coat, "I have some dispatches for Dover. I ought to go, I'll have the boys show you around while I'm gone."

With this rushed speech, he leapt up and ran through the crowded hall. I looked at Roland, who said "Go!" and waved me after him. I hobbled outside as quickly as I could, reveling in the effect of the brisk air after the warm, crowded atmosphere, and looked around me.

Aequitas was crouched in full harness in the courtyard from the night before, which was a sprawling, uneven affair of cobblestone and sleeping dragons. A few small grey and yellow creatures snored on top of an enormous Regal Copper, despite the fact that the watery sun had risen high in the sky. The grand front of the hall, the only well-maintained building within view, was embellished with decorative pillars and carvings of dragons. Through a small patch of scrubby trees I could see the shimmering surface of the loch. Leaves scuttled across by my feet, mirroring the patterns of the formation running drills over the water.

Someone coughed behind me and to my left. I turned to see Harris nearly doubled over, leaning against a pillar for support.

"I'm all right," he mumbled, looking up when I jogged over to help him. He straightened, but not before I had heard the wet crackling which now accompanied his spasms.

"You don't sound all right." I held out a hand and he shied away, much the same way as I had two days previously.

"Belay that," he snapped, and I dropped my hand, eyes wide. "I'll return within the week. Until then, I want you to work with Kirk and Lane." As he spoke, Harris brusquely pulled on his long leather gloves and strode towards Aequitas. "Learn the job; get to know your way around a harness. Spend as much time around the dragons and their crews as you can."

"Yes Captain," I returned, saluting smartly. Suddenly, I remembered meeting Captain Pellew aboard the _Inde_. I had been awkward, I had been arrogant, but I had been in my element. I had the feel of the entire ship just through the creaking boards rocking beneath my feet. Now I was supposed to assist with leather harnesses for dragons?

Midshipman Kennedy had put me at ease aboard the _Inde_. As Aequitas took off with a rush of air, I looked at the faces of the two harnessmen. I would get no such comfort from them.


	7. Chapter 7

**Author's Note:** Sorry this took so long to update. Also, last update for a little while! Enjoy and I'll start posting again towards the end of July. Reviews are AMAZING.

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**Chapter VII**

"So you used to be in the navy." It was a statement of unpleasant fact rather than any sort of query.

"Yes," I responded, glancing up at Lane through my eyelashes. The man was sturdily-built and tan, so his fine yellow hair seemed out of place. His voice was gruff, however, and his manner even more so. He eyed me warily as we worked.

My distraction caused me yet another prick to the finger as the needle I was attempting to wield slipped from the oiled leather strap in my hands. I inhaled sharply, the needle having driven quite far into my flesh. Yet another crimson drop to be wiped onto my reddening sleeve.

"Why'd they let a woman become a captain?" This from Kirk, who was slighter but still menacing with his aggressive expression and brisk manner.

"Well," I began carefully, focusing both on my words and on making even stitches, "my father fought in the Revolutionary War. I know that to you it was just an uprising," I hurried to explain, "but in America it means so much more to people. After the war, he became a merchant, but he still had influence. With the experience I gained on his ships, he was able to get me a position in the navy. I managed to work my way up to captain."

Lane grunted and I sighed inwardly. For the last two days, the three of us had been sitting in the same three-sided shed, painstakingly repairing the same harness. I knew how to sew, of course, but the leather, the thick needles, and the sinewy cord required to make safe harnesses made the task more difficult by tenfold. Long hours throughout the day were spent learning the proper arrangements for the leather straps and toiling over the project. At dusk, I would stagger back to the main hall on my recovering legs, eat a hurried dinner, and then pore over diagrams of maneuvers in my room by candlelight. I read books on strategy, lent to me by Jane Roland, late into the night, and rose early every morning to observe formation training for most of an hour before my labor resumed.

Wherever I had come from, I was in the Aerial Corps now, I reminded myself. I had no practical knowledge about dragons, their rigging, or their military tactics. I had to learn as much as I could in as short a time as possible. If I managed it, I might be able to impress Harris with my knowledge when he returned, and then my promotion might be hurried. It was a definite possibility.

With this as my goal, I drove myself to my limits, working on minimal sleep and only eating when it was convenient. Another day passed, and I barely spoke to anyone, so absorbed was I in my studies. A fourth day ran through its course with even less conversation.

On the fifth day, I awoke with the sun with the intention of reading before dressing and watching maneuvers. However, when I looked out of my window, I saw a familiar grey shape winging its way down out of the morning sky to land in the courtyard below.

I dressed hurriedly and plaited my hair, as I was then accustomed to doing. Then I ran down the spiral staircase, skipping and stumbling in my hurry, though if asked I could not have explained why. Perhaps it was because I had not connected to Kirk or Lane or Roland or Harcourt and I simply was tired of not speaking.

I skidded to a halt in the entrance to the dining hall, however, when I caught sight of Harris. At this early hour, very few aviators were downstairs and eating, so only three captains had clustered around him to hear news. Harris himself was seated at a table, his usual heaping plate and full cup in front of him, but he wasn't touching any of the food. In fact, his cheeks appeared sallow and grey, and he looked exhausted.

"There was a fire ship," he was relating as I entered. "Sent into the harbor. A captain and a middie taking his exam were responsible for saving the fleet, I believe. There was a frigate- the _Indefatigable_, I think- in port at the time, and she would have been lost." Hearing the _Inde_'s name prompted me to join the group of people. Harris looked up and brief recognition flared in his eyes, but he did not otherwise greet me. He coughed twice into the elbow of his coat, eyes squeezed shut as though it caused him pain, then continued speaking. "Otherwise, there is no news."

The other captains nodded and dispersed, all apparently recognizing members of their crews and moving to join them. I was left to sit across from Harris and watch as he stared forlornly at his breakfast.

"Are you well?"

"Of course," he murmured distractedly. After a moment, he came back to himself and looked up at me. A false smile was painted across his mouth. "And have you been familiarizing yourself with the Corps?"

I nodded, launching into a description of the harness I was helping to make, the books which I had read, the maneuvers which I had observed and the historical battles which I knew by heart.

"And what of the dragons?" he asked.

"Yellow Winchesters are the smallest," I began, "though only slightly smaller than Greylings. Regal Coppers are the biggest but Longwings have the greatest wingspan. They spit acid-"

"But which dragons did you meet?" he insisted, looking confused. "Which captains did you speak to, with whom are you friends? Who is interesting, who reminds you of people in the navy, who have you trusted to offer you advice?"

"I met Roland's dragon Levitas," I said lamely. When he looked at me expectantly, I shrugged. "Kirk and Lane worked hard enough when I was watching. Harcourt is nervous around people, but not dragons." I racked my brains for anything more, but I failed to produce a single detail. I had failed to learn anything about my comrades.

"Well," Harris sighed, "I suppose it's a start."

Then suddenly he was coughing hard enough that he was completely doubled over, forehead almost knocking against his knees and sleeve pressed ineffectually over his mouth.

"Harris?" He didn't respond, but only coughed harder. Now he was gasping, unable to catch his breath, and the convulsions still wracked his body. "Captain?"

I stood and hurried to his side, placing a reassuring hand on his back. It seemed like a natural step, but I had no idea how to help him otherwise. I crouched to his level and gripped one of his shoulders to prevent him from moving so much, then had no choice but to wait out the fit.

Finally he came to rest, breathing deeply and eyes watering. The other captains had formed a loose ring around us, expressions concerned but wary. I examined Harris's face as color returned to it and breathed a sigh of relief.

Then my breath caught in my throat when I noticed the slight scarlet smear at the corner of his lip. "No," I murmured, leaning in to try and disprove my own eyes, ignoring Harris's confused expression. Then I glanced down at his sleeve, which confirmed my fears.

I rocked back on my heels, exhaling slowly, and waited for him to notice the speckles of blood, stark against his white shirtsleeve. When he did, he only groaned softly and leaned back in his chair, energy spent.

"Consumption."

* * *

"But will he be all right?" Aequitas asked me worriedly. He had allowed me to perch on his forearm while we both sat in his clearing and fretted.

"I'm afraid I don't know," I sighed. Harris had been taken to the infirmary, but there was very little hope. In London alone, thousands were dying of consumption. They would cough and starve themselves down to nothing, until finally they would disappear entirely, wrapped in a sheet in a cruel mockery of their starvation for air. But I was determined not to tell Aequitas how dire the situation was. Perhaps, if I ignored it too, the two of us might be able to ride it out. There was, after all, still some chance…

In the meantime, the covert had been quarantined. The Aerial Corps contained a small population at the best of times, and it wouldn't do to have the infection spread. No aviators were allowed in or out unless they had explicit permission from Admiral Lenton himself.

"I don't want him to die," the dragon sniffled, jarring me slightly from my position.

I turned around to stroke the ridged scales on Aequitas's chest. "I know." It was all I could say.

"Miss Moore," someone called, and I looked up to see Lane trudging out of the woods. "Miss Moore!"

"Yes?"

He loped easily up to us and stopped momentarily to catch his breath. "Miss Moore, Captain Harris has a message for you." I made to stand up and walk back to the hall, but Lane held up a hand to stop me. "They won't let you see him yet. He wrote it down; the doctor gave it to me."

He offered up a crumpled, smudged piece of paper. On it, scrawled in a shaking hand and splattered with ink, was a brief message:

_Moore-_

_Aequitas needs to be looked after. Have him fly a bit, make sure he eats. Tell him I said I'll be all right._

_The doctors say I seem to be doing well for consumption. With luck, I might be better soon._

_Find another aviator or two. Befriend them. It shouldn't be too difficult, considering your location._

_Harris_

I smiled a little at the cheerful message.

"Miss?" Lane prompted me.

I lifted my chin, regaining a bit of the stature that I had lost in the last week. "I expect you and Kirk to keep working on the harness. I will assist you as I may. I can take my response to the infirmary myself." Lane nodded respectfully and left as I tucked the note into my coat pocket. I turned to Aequitas. "I'm just going to see how Captain Harris is doing. He says he feels much better."

He raised his scaly, equine head, eyes brightening. "Tell him that I miss him! And also that I saw a red bird."

I chuckled. "I promise. Are you hungry? Would you like to eat while you wait to hear his response?" Aequitas nodded. "Excellent. You go enjoy your dinner, and I will meet you back here."

He took off with a rush of air and I set off in the direction of the main hall.

* * *

I eventually realized that I was laboring too closely over my word choice. After nearly half an hour, I stretched my cramped legs underneath my desk and read what I had written.

_Harris-_

_Aequitas was happy to hear from you. He says that he misses you, and also that he saw a red bird today._

_Kirk and Lane seem to be adjusting to me. The new harness is coming along well, and I will continue to assist them when I am not with Aequitas._

_I truly hope that the doctors are right, and you may soon recover!_

_Moore_

I folded the note and made my way down towards the infirmary. The sun had just set on the long, trying day, and aviators were trickling their way up from dinner. I pushed past countless green shoulders, their associated faces blurring in anonymity. My own coat flapped behind me and my boots scuffed along the rough stone stairs. I was perfectly absorbed in my own business until I turned a tight corner, feet sliding slightly because of my brisk pace, and suddenly I was being jerked backwards by my hair.

I made a low shrieking noise, more out of surprise than pain, and whipped around, thinking that one of the young cadets had grabbed me in fun and would run off when faced with a scolding. To my surprise, my braid simply dragged a heavy weight around, pulling more and keeping my mysterious attacker behind my back.

"Wait!" someone spluttered behind me when I began groping behind my back, water streaming from my eyes with the pain. "Stop moving!"

I stilled obediently and made some effort at wiping the tears from my eyes. When my hair finally sprang free, I spun on my heel to face my attacker. I was met with a skinny chest at my eye level, though I was not considered to be short. I looked up to see a young man with a sharp nose and bright blue eyes beneath dark hair. He looked puzzled, his expressive face tinted with mild amusement and concern. He was unraveling a snarl of hair from a button on his coat, and I realized that my braid must have hooked on it.

"Apologies," I muttered, patting the back of my head and flushing when I realized that my carefully-smoothed plait had dissolved into a mess of tangled, wispy strands.

"No need to apologize, I should have been watching myself better." The man finally disentangled the clump of copper hair from his coat and allowed it to drift gently to the ground. Then he looked up and started when he recognized me. "You must be Abitha Moore."

I nodded, extending a hand. "Yes, though I'm afraid you have the advantage."

"John Granby." He took my hand in a firm grasp and shook it purposefully, his eyes belying his curiosity. "Excuse me for prying, but I'm afraid I must ask. Did the navy really give you a full month aboard a frigate?"

"Yes." I patted my pocket to ensure that I had not dropped my note before turning and gesturing towards the main hall. "I was just on my way to the infirmary. Would you care to accompany me? I sense that you may have more questions." I was torn between finishing my errand so that I could rejoin Aequitas and endeavoring to develop at least one more acquaintance that I could report back to Harris.

"If you don't mind," Granby hesitated, and I took this as leave to continue walking. He skipped a step to catch up but easily matched my stride. "And you served in the Continental Navy? When you lived in America?"

"Yes. I was captain of a small vessel called the _Antony_." A smile ghosted across my lips at the memory. What wouldn't I give to be back aboard her gently rocking deck, a sharp Atlantic breeze across the bow and a familiar crew safely under my command?

"Do you resent being pressed into the Corps?"

I stopped short. I had never really considered the idea, at least not in so many words. I missed my ship, of course, and the _Inde_ was at least more familiar to me than this strange world of dragons and fellow female officers. But here, no one gave me a second glance, which was refreshing. And the thought of captaining a dragon someday was undeniably attractive.

"No," I finally responded, "and I don't think that I was pressed. I could have paid my way onto a ship back to America, where I could have found another profession. I enjoy the adventure, however, and I was happy for the opportunity."

Granby grinned, clearly appreciating my attitude. "Well, that's good to hear."

I halted again, causing a few annoyed exclamations from other pedestrians in the crowded area. "You're very forward."

He shrugged. "So I've been told."

I pointed an accusing finger, unsure whether to be amused or exasperated. "Harris told you to talk to me!" Shaking my head, I once again resumed my progress, curious whether or not he would follow me.

He did, long legs striding gracefully to match my progress. "Does it matter?"

"I don't know," I admitted, distracted. We had finally reached the door to the infirmary, where a white-dressed young woman was sitting guard from a comfortable chair. She had a piece of fine white fabric wrapped around her lower face, presumably to protect herself from the consumption. When I approached, she leapt to her feet in a clear attempt to block my path.

"Business?" she inquired brusquely.

I extended the piece of parchment, matching her manner. "A note for Captain Harris. I understand that I may not see him, but if you could please see that he gets it."

She nodded and took the note but made no move to go inside. "I will rotate back inside in less than one hour. I'll give it to him then."

"Thank you."


	8. Chapter 8

**Author's Note: **Back from three weeks in England, where I had no access to my laptop! Now I can start posting chapters again. :-) Reviews are adored!

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**Chapter VIII**

Granby followed me back outside without speaking a word. Dusk was falling quickly, bright winter stars piercing halfhearted clouds which drifted with the evening breeze. Aequitas would surely be done eating, so I made my way towards his clearing.

My stiff, formal facade had been maintained too long, and now tears were streaming down my cheeks. I wasn't entirely sure why: perhaps they were tears never shed in grief for my father, or tears of loneliness, or anger, or plain selfish concern for my own future. I clawed angrily at my eyes with the sleeve of my coat and Granby didn't comment.

If Harris died, then what would happen to me? I might be transferred to another ground crew, bumped from position to position, my superiors reluctant to promote me because of my background. I supposed that I always had the option of giving up and returning to America, but I honestly wasn't sure that I had the funds to buy passage. Besides, admitting defeat, even after such a blow, seemed like it could only be a last resort.

I should never have written to the Admiralty other than to explain the reappearance of my- their- ship. I should have thanked Captain Pellew for his hospitality and returned to a new posting in the Continental Navy. I might even have been lucky enough to serve with some of my former crew.

Now, the closest thing I had to a friend was ill, probably dying, and I was storming around a Scottish training covert in the dark. Had I been on my ship, I could have barked a few orders and climbed up into the rigging to observe them being carried out, and my confidence would have been restored. Had I still been aboard the _Inde_, I probably would have spoken to Horatio and he would have offered some level-headed reassurance.

A sob tore from my chest and I stopped short as my vision blurred. I didn't trust myself to navigate through the forest, so I held out an arm and stumbled forwards until I made contact with a tree. Giving up and only thankful that my audience wasn't larger, I wrapped my arms around it and wept bitterly.

I could vaguely sense Granby's presence somewhere behind me. He didn't move or respond.

"I'm- tired!" I gasped, throwing the words over my shoulder. "Damn it!"

A comforting hand, big and warm, settled on my shoulder, and I sobbed harder. It seemed like hours before I was able to regain my composure and wipe the water from my eyes, but it was probably only minutes. When I could see again, Granby's uncertain face wavered before me.

"Captain Moore," he said, using my previous title, "you're doing well." He paused, as if uncertain as to whether he might be stepping over a boundary. After all, I had met the man half an hour before. "I'm sure everything will be all right in the end."

Even that simple reassurance which no one had bothered to utter in so long was enough to make me straighten my shoulders and nod. "You're quite right, of course. I apologize."

"No need."

We both walked the rest of the way to Aequitas's clearing in silence.

* * *

After another two weeks of anxiously fixing the harness and distracting Aequitas, the news of Harris's death rippled through the covert. The body was burned to prevent the consumption from spreading. I continued to go about my duties. I attended the funeral service and did not cry.

In a highly irregular turn of events, I was promoted. Apparently it had been Harris's wish for me to become Aequitas's captain, should he allow it, and references from my former superiors had been rushed through to help confirm. Jane Roland would oversee my training, though I would probably never see combat. I would be a courier. Granby also took me under his wing, and his experience turned out to be invaluable.

Numb and exhausted and too much in shock to be surprised at the news, I acquiesced. Aequitas too, though his grief was deep, accepted the arrangement. The poor thing could not stand the idea of being without a captain.

And so truly began my years in the British Aerial Corps.

* * *

_Ten Years Later_

Even in the tense peacetime, there was still plenty for me to do. Within seconds of Aequitas alighting in the covert's courtyard, I had leapt from the harness with the appropriate dispatches and was running inside to deliver them.

At almost thirty, the Corps had done me well. Having avoided most combat, I was still entirely intact. Once incident with a French spy flying inland, who had almost crashed into us before I saw him, had left me with a smattering of burns across my collarbone and an almost invisible scar on my left wrist. Fortunately, a formation had happened across us before things became too dangerous.

I was just as tanned and wind-whipped as I had been in the Navy as a teenager, but now my jaw was that little bit sharper and my hands more skilled. I no longer strode arrogantly but instead held myself with ten years of experience and a confidence in my own abilities. While I always thirsted for action and never formed relationships stronger than friendship, I was happy with my lot.

Harris's death, though tragic, had drawn me together with Aequitas. While at first I was dumbfounded by how to deal with him, since the creature was a good deal simpler than the minds with which I was used to interacting, we had since formed a strong friendship. Indeed, we depended on each other for support in every aspect of our lives.

Today, much to my surprise, the Admiral to whom I was delivering handed me one response immediately. "Wait for my other responses, but these orders are for you."

"Sir." I took the orders, curiosity filling me, and walked outside to lean against a wall and wait. Using a battered thumbnail, I opened the neatly folded and sealed paper to read it.

_Captain Abitha Moore and Aequitas are to report to the Portsmouth docks at 7:00 the morning of November 5th to board dragon transport. The destination will be revealed after HMS Behemoth is underway. Captain Hornblower of the Royal Navy will transport a select few courier-class dragons of the British Aerial Corps to a classified location for experimental combat training._

I repeatedly almost dropped the paper as surprise after surprise sank in. Dragon transport? Captain Hornblower? Experimental combat training?

This would certainly be interesting.


End file.
